


Sanctities

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1512902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus shares his bed and not much else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctities

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Drabble for shunned-one’s “Draco and Lupin, and can it be like dubious consent in a sense with Draco seducing him” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/). I don't britpick.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s left here for his own protection, but they can all tell that he doesn’t feel _safe._ He fidgets over everything and cuts off half his barbs before he’s even finished saying anything, taunting Harry one minute and hiding around the corner the next. Fred and George don’t even pick on him; there’s just a general air of sadness the impending war’s left them all with, and Draco Malfoy’s just become _pathetic._

Remus doesn’t expect to see him much. Remus, unlike most of the others, is unattached; he can afford to go out and fight. He does all the little missions Dumbledore tells him to, and sometimes he just sleeps out there, on the grass, under bridges, in broken-down hotels he can barely afford, and sometimes he comes back here. Tonight, he’s given a room; the one that used to belong to Regulus. Sirius won’t come anywhere near it. Remus changes into a looser set of ragged pants and a too-large sweater, and he’s got the blankets up when someone knocks on the door. 

He wanders over and opens it, blinking against the still-on hall light, and Draco looks up at him, almost as pale and sallow as Remus is. “Can I stay with you?” he asks, but there’s that sort of pompous sniff in his voice that shows he’s not used to _asking_ for things. Remus takes a peripheral glance into the hallway, peering up the stairs. There’s no other commotion; nothing’s happened.

Satisfied that he isn’t needed, he asks, “What happened to your bed?” But Draco just scowls, crossing his arms. Remus doesn’t know where he was sent—maybe to share a room with the other kids, even if none of them really look like _kids_ anymore. Remus nods in the general direction of the living room and suggests, “Why don’t you sleep on the sofa?”

The scowl drops instantly. Remus never knew the Malfoys particularly well, but he recognizes the platinum blond hair and grey eyes of Lucius. Those eyes widen into big, round, frightened circles, and Draco shakes his head. “It’s creepy down there.” Perfectly timed, a floorboard creaks, and Draco whirls around, looking frantic—but it’s just Kreacher, grumbling to himself and bumbling across the stairwell. Draco turns back around and licks his lips, lowering his head to implore, “Professor, _please_ , can I stay with you instead? Potter’s being an ass, and Black keeps looking at me like he’s going to kill me in my sleep, and there’s half a dozen Weasley’s in the other room—” And Remus is too tired to hear all the conditions a spoiled brat finds deplorable, so he just steps back into his room. 

Draco presumes to follow, darting in and clicking the door shut behind him, and Remus says hollowly, “I’m not a professor anymore.” The moonlight through the windows is a very dull blue, but it’s enough to find the bed by.

It’s a big thing. Four-poster. Remus stayed in it once when he was younger, when they snuck in for a few days in the summer when Sirius’ family was gone, and James wanted the master suite to himself and Peter took the guest room and Remus was the only one who didn’t mind Regulus’ sense of decoration enough to stay here. It’s different now, but only in trappings. The mood’s the same. It’s dingy and dark and covered in dust. He settles under the thick duvet and stays tight to the right side, leaving Draco the left. Given the places Remus has crashed before, given whom he’s stayed with, especially on undercover missions in recent years, he isn’t picky. Draco’s a cowardly brat, if Harry’s anything to go by, but he’s not a hungry werewolf or a trained Death Eater, so that’s an improvement. His footsteps creak along the old floor as he comes closer, and even his breathing sounds sullen. 

Remus doesn’t care. He has a bed; he just wants to sleep. It weighs down on the other end, and he doesn’t bother looking. He’s got the blankets curled up around him; he’s always _cold_. A lycanthropic hangover, maybe. He expects the mattress to shift and the blankets to adjust, but they don’t.

Draco’s stalling. Remus glances over his shoulder to check, and he finds the teenager stripping—pulling his shirt over his head. He wasn’t carrying anything to change into. His pink back is exposed, and it’s flawless, soft skin tightening over thin shoulder blades as he bends to pull off his trousers. Remus looks away again, facing the wall. It’s awfully trusting of Draco, he thinks, to sleep naked in a bed with a stranger. Remus can practically _smell_ the innocence on him: the youth and the rich leftovers of expensive cologne. It’s been a long time since Remus slept with anyone naked, other than, of course, the werewolves. Just thinking of that makes him shudder; he doesn’t need memories of a bare Greyback. The weight on the mattress changes, and the blankets lift; Draco’s crawling under them. Remus shuts his eyes and tries to block it out. 

Draco makes that difficult by sidling closer, and warm fingers press into Remus’ back.

He rolls over instantly, staring hard at Draco, who looks a cross between sheepish and determined. He drawls quietly, “I need protection.”

Remus frowns. Don’t they all. “What do you think you’re here for?”

Draco looks distressed, then shakes his head. “No, I mean... specially.” When Remus lifts an eyebrow, Draco sneers. “I know everyone here’s just looking out for the golden trio up there. I need _special_ protection.” That’s a foolish notion. Remus has half a mind to roll back over, another half to say he’s no sell-sword. But Draco switches gears before he can, lashes lowering slightly and cheeks staining pink. “You know,” he whispers, hand reaching for Remus’ sleeve, eyes following, “...I’ve always had a thing for professors...”

Remus jerks his arm away and promptly rolls back over, scooting as close to the edge of the bed as he can go. He grunts again, disgruntled, “I’m not a professor.” He’s not anything but a broken monster old enough to be Draco’s father. 

Undeterred, Draco’s hand returns, now stroking a short trail down Remus’ spine. While Remus is shivering, Draco murmurs, voice slipping into something _sinful_ , “You know, now that I’m grown up, the werewolf thing is also pretty cool... I’ve never been with a werewolf before... I bet you’re really strong...” 

Remus reaches back to push Draco away, but Draco just latches onto his arm, lithe body pressing harder into his, and Remus becomes suddenly, horribly, acutely aware of Draco’s nakedness. Draco’s crotch presses into his ass, and even through the sorry excuse for pajamas, Remus can feel just about _everything_. He can feel the creamy skin of Draco’s thighs pressing against the backs of his own, spreading as they try to intertwine, and Draco’s stomach is now flush with the small of his back, Draco’s head lifting up so warm lips can whisper in Remus’ ear, “I can make you feel _really_ good...”

Remus pushes Draco back harder and grunts, “I can’t be bought with sex. You’re a child; I’m going to protect you either way.” It’s hard not to growl it. He was _not_ expecting this when he let Draco in. The thought of someone trying to seduce _him_ of all people is still hitting him. Let alone someone Harry’s age who’s just now flipped sides. Remus has never hated Slytherins the way Sirius and Harry do, but that doesn’t mean he’s particularly fond of them. His pushing gets him nowhere; Draco just pushes forward again, and when Remus looks over his shoulder, he finds Draco’s pointed face somewhere between scowling and pouting. 

It _is_ pretty. That’s undeniable. Draco’s pretty. But that wasn’t supposed to matter, Remus wasn’t supposed to think about it, and he wasn’t at all prepared for Draco’s bare shoulders and arms to make him shiver like this. It’s been too long. The wolf in him is too _hungry._ Draco hisses, “I’m not a child.” As if to demonstrate, he rocks his hips into Remus’ backside, and Remus realizes, with a surprising start, that Draco’s _hard_.

He sniffs at the air. He can smell the arousal. He can hardly believe it. He wonders vaguely who Draco’s thinking of—it can’t be him—and why the hell, of all the people in this house, _Remus_ is the one he’d come to with it. Arms wrapping sensually around Remus’ sides, Draco croons more softly, “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I’m not trying to _buy_ you—can’t you see why I’d like to be _closer_ to a big, strong werewolf...?”

Remus isn’t big. He isn’t strong. He’s haggard and burdened and he finally forces himself to roll over, so fast that Draco jerks back in shock. He’s covered in the blankets, but even the top half is alluring—his pale chest is completely unblemished, little, rosy nipples slightly pebbled in the cold. His blond hair has tumbled across his forehead as his cheek rests in the pillow, and he looks up at Remus with big, beautiful grey eyes. His fear is obvious. Not of Remus, but of everything. But when Remus sniffs again, the arousal is real, too. 

“Look,” Remus grumbles, forcing his eyes to stay on Draco’s face and refusing to let his mind wander. “I don’t know what kinky teenage fantasies you’ve invented for yourself, but I’m not like any of them. I’m a poor, desolate, unfortunate old man that just wants a good night’s sleep. This is the least crowded room in the house, I get that, and yeah, it’s not a nice house to be alone in. I was a professor once, and I’m in the Order _to protect_ people, and I am going to do that. But if you want to stay here, you better stop trying to seduce it out of me.” He waits for some agreement.

Finally, Draco nods. But he does it while sneering and with an irritated sniff, and then he’s the first to roll over, hunching his shoulders. Rejection clearly isn’t something he’s used to. 

That’ll have to do. Sighing, Remus settles onto his back and stares at the ceiling, wanting nothing more than to be unconscious. He shuts his eyes and works towards that. 

Eventually, Draco rolls closer to him, but this time half asleep. A lazy arm tosses over him, and Draco snuggles up close, and Remus, having rolled back around, lets Draco spoon him. Something tells him they’ll have another struggle tomorrow night.

But that’s another problem for another day, and for now, he just sleeps.


End file.
